


Halter-Broke

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven
Genre: M/M, OW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: toy kink, very slight non-con, very very light blood play</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halter-Broke

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed -- was kinda afraid to let many of you guys know how strange I can be . . . Let me know if you find problems, please!

He stared at Chris, nausea and disgust competing with a growing coil of desire.

Chris grinned, arching on eyebrow. "Be right pretty on ya," he murmured, and Vin noticed how his lover's finger unconsciously caressed the shiny metal of the new bit.

"You want me to be a -- horse?" He swallowed, stepping back once and bumping into the wall of the cabin.

Chris laughed, but it was strained now. "It was just a joke," he said, looking away, and for one of the first times in the two years they had known each other, in the year they had been -- doing whatever this thing was that they were doing together, Vin knew Chris was embarrassed.

It was almost amusing -- if it had been anyone other than Chris.

He knew, though, what it took for Chris to put himself on the line this way, what it took to bring him to the point of embarrassment.

And that, more than anything, made him stop and think about what he was going to say. He swallowed again, forcing the nausea down. "Does give another meaning to the idea of riding me," he said, forcing a smile of his own.

Chris glanced to him, but the hold didn't take. His eyes shifted back to the window quickly, and he tucked the bit into one hand, the leather straps bending back on themselves as he gathered them together.

Vin shook his head once, gathering his resolve. Retaking the ground he had surrendered, he stepped closer, moving slow. Chris could go from embarrassed to volatile in a split second. "Seems like a bit might be more interesting on someone like Ezra or JD, maybe get 'em to shut up. I been talkin' too much for ya?"

The attitude worked this time; the corners of Chris' mouth twitched and he glanced again at Vin. He didn't move away as Vin moved closer. "You don't hardly talk enough," he answered and his shoulder relaxed a little. "Ain't that, Vin. I just . . . I don't know. Had a girl once who liked it, liked the feel of the bit and the bridle strapped around her head."

Vin caught himself, curbing the automatic response. Instead, patiently, he teased, "Musta done somethin' for you too, Cowboy."

Chris did look at him then, his eyes a deep shade of green that said he wanted. "She looked fine like that, all trussed up, just for me."

Vin held the gaze, asking softly, "That what you want? Me all trussed up?" The very thought made his palms itch and his belly flutter -- the idea of letting someone tie him down, the idea of submitting . . .

Chris was looking at him, the green darker now, like deep forest moss. "Could stand to see it," he mumbled. "The idea of you being there all for me, not distracting me with your pretty words and groping hands does have a certain appeal."

The coil in his belly tightened a notch, sending shivers through his groin. "Thought you liked to hear me talk. To feel my hands -- "

"Do," Chris said, and Vin noticed that the other man's thumb was rubbing faster over the metal he held in his hand. "Love it, Vin, more than almost anything. But sometimes, I'd like do all the work, be able to touch you without you distracting me."

Be in control. Vin knew that was at the heart of it, that Chris wanted the control.

He swallowed. "I trust ya," he said finally, more to himself than to Chris.

But the other man heard him and understood instantly the heart of Vin's reluctance. His eyes widened and he stepped forward, reaching out. "I didn't mean -- Christ, Vin, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean -- "

Vin caught the reaching hand, taking it in his own even as he leaned in close and kissed Chris into silence. It took little effort to fumble free the piece of tack, drawing it clear of Chris' grasp just before he stepped back.

He took it in both hands, looking at it. "New, huh," he said, turning it over. Shiny and unscratched fittings, the cheek circles already closed around the leather bridle straps. He didn't give himself time to think, lifting the contraption to his face and slipping the cold iron bit between his teeth. The piece was a little wide, designed for a horse's muzzle, so the cheek rings fit hard against the hinges of his jaw.

"Vin," Chris started again, when he realized what Vin was doing, but by then, Vin was trying to close the clasps of the short leather leads behind his head. It was a tight fight; the leather straps were designed to hitch the bit to the bridle, not to each other. By the time he got the clasps latched to each other, his hair was pressed tight against his head and the metal of the bit itself was pinching at the corners of his mouth.

He looked up then, catching Chris' eyes as he dropped his hands back to his sides. Unthinkingly, he licked at the length in his mouth, tasting the bitterness of metal, the slight salt of sweat.

Chris gaze fell to his lips, to his tongue, and Vin saw the heat flare to life.

"You don't have to do this," Chris said, but his voice was husky and he was still looking at Vin's mouth, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Vin almost tried to answer, but caught himself as his tongue came up against the wide rod. Instead, he let his hands fall to Chris' shirt, unbuttoning the top few buttons.

Chris caught his wrists then, pulling them together and holding them. "Wanna do it right," he said, but there was the faintest hint of a question in his voice.

Vin nodded, again refusing to think about what he was doing. He trusted Chris.

Chris smiled at him, releasing him and lifting his hands to cup Vin's face. He was gentle, not putting pressure on the leather or metal, as his thumbs rubbed along Vin's bottom lip, wiping at the drool created by the presence in his mouth. Vin figured it wasn't pretty, but this was what Chris wanted and he'd apparently seen it before.

Chris leaned in, licking the same path his thumb had taken, just before his tongue delved farther, invading Vin's mouth with determination. He touched the metal as well, running his tongue over the bar with such ferocity that it cut into the corners of Vin's mouth, drawing blood.

Vin tried to draw back, but Chris caught the back of his head in one hand, and when Vin still tried to move, he curved two fingers under the leather, pulling Vin's hair and cutting the iron deeper into his flesh.

Vin whimpered at the pain, finally getting Chris' attention. He pulled back, releasing his hold on Vin, and gasping himself at the trickles of blood. "God, I'm sorry I didn't -- "

Vin swallowed, lifting his hands to the clasps at the back of his head, but Chris again caught his wrists. "I'm sorry, Vin, I wasn't thinking. I won't . . . I won't touch your head. Please. Leave it."

Vin stared at him, disbelieving at first that Chris would be this cruel.

But then, watching him, hearing his harsh breathing and seeing the swell in his pants, the disbelief faded to a sort of resignation. It had always been there between them, this need that Chris had to dominate. They'd danced around it in bed, Vin thinking that the teasing he did was just a game, that his playful resistance to Chris' attempts to control was a sort of light foreplay that they both enjoyed.

He knew better now. It wasn't a game, not to Chris.

He shivered, trying not to let himself remember any of the other times someone had had complete control of his body.

This was Chris, he repeated to himself. Chris, who he trusted with his life. With his love.

Blood tickled as it drifted down his chin.

Chris reached up, hesitated for an instant, then wiped tenderly at it, catching it with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Vin, I didn't think. But I will now, I swear."

He drew the thumb back to his mouth, sucking it in slowly, his eyes watching Vin. His cheeks hollowed as he drew deep, and Vin thought of other times when his face had looked like that -- when Vin's cock had been between those lips instead of Chris' thumb.

It was intentional on Chris' part, he knew -- but it was also working. The pain to his mouth was fading, while the fire in his groin was building.

Chris didn't say anything, but he used his right hand, the one not in his mouth, to pull at buttons of Vin's shirt, pushing them open. Vin didn't stop him, his mind torn between the rational desire to end this now, before he couldn't, and the very physical desire to let this go on, to build.

Chris stepped closer as the last button came undone, taking his thumb from his mouth so he could use both hands to first slip the suspenders from Vin's shoulders, then the shirt itself.

It was a sign of how aroused he was that he didn't bitch at the fact that Vin was already wearing long johns under his clothes; the nights could get cool even if it was just late summer.

He made short work of those buttons as well, sliding his hands against bare flesh as he pushed them off. His thumbs worked familiar circles over Vin's nipples, and despite himself, he arched into the touch, moaning.

"That's my boy," Chris whispered, leaning his forehead against Vin's. "Wanna make the rest of you feel this good, too." One hand drifted lower, teasing the light path of hair leading to the button of Vin's pants.

Vin closed his eyes, unconsciously licking at the bit again, rolling it between his teeth. It made a clicking sound, one that he knew well.

One Chris knew also -- his breath caught, and he caught Vin's nipple, tugging, as his other hand closed over Vin's growing erection. Vin moaned then, his teeth clicking even harder against the bit, and Chris ground against him harder.

Vin caught his lover's waist, pulling at his shirt, wanting to feel bare skin against his own. But the movement of his arms reawakened Chris' control, and Vin found himself moving, partly pulled and partly dragged to the bed.

Somewhere along the way, his pants were opened, and tugged down, so that by the time Chris had turned him and pushed him to sit on the mattress, his ass was bare and the cloth was trapped under his thighs.

Chris was on his knees even as Vin hit the bed, tugging at Vin's boots. Vin reached to help, only to have his hands again knocked away.

"Be good," Chris ordered roughly, tossing the boots to one side, even as he pulled on the pants. He didn't waste time nor worry about finesse; Vin was sprawled on his back, the back of his legs tingling from the drag of the cloth against them as they came off.

Chris was on him before he had a chance to move, his hands catching under Vin's arms and drawing him up the bed as though he weighed nothing. Vin tried to help, tried to lever himself, but Chris' impatience made his efforts more a hindrance than a help.

Frustrated, Chris growled, "Told ya, be good," and one of his hands slapped at Vin's ass in a hard spank that startled him.

He jerked away, but Chris caught his arms, pulling them back at the same time he stretched over Vin's torso, forcing him into the thin pillows at the head.

Later, he would think that his lover had had this planned for some time; the rope was already tied to the thick rails of the headboard, the ends hanging loose and easy to find. One of Vin's wrists was captured and tied before he knew what happening, the hemp raw against his skin.

He fought then, fear overcoming all other concerns. "No," he called, the word clear despite the thing in his mouth.

Chris stopped his movements, but he didn't relinquish his grasp on Vin's free arm nor lift his weight from where it rested, pinning Vin down. Instead, he looked down to meet Vin's gaze.

What Vin saw in Chris' eyes confirmed everything he had feared. The look in the eyes he knew so well was familiar to him -- he had seen it in the faces of men he wanted to forget, men who had touched him against his wishes. It was possessive and predatory and demanding -- and unsympathetic. It was the look of someone who had ceased to think of him as anything other than a warm body to fuck.

Panic tripped up his spine and he bucked up against the other man, knowing the futility of fighting but responding to an instinct beaten into him over years of fighting to survive.

The hands holding him suddenly released, and Chris drew away, blinking. The fire in his eyes banked a little, the green not quite so bright, and he drew a deep shaky breath. He let one hand stroke along Vin's sternum, perhaps offering comfort or apology, perhaps an impulse that he'd never before had to check.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you," he said softly, his voice distant. "How desirable." He trailed a finger around one nipple, not touching it but just lightly tracing the skin around it. "I could look at you for hours -- have looked at you for hours, just watching the way your hair curls, your hands move, the way you lean when you stand, the way you smile when something makes you happy. You don't do that a lot, though." The finger was edging back down the center of his body, roaming leisurely through the fine smatter of hair. "But I like you best when you're looking at me like I'm the center of the world, Vin, like now. I don't mean to scare you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Right now though," he paused, leaning down close, his eyes boring into Vin's, "I want to love you."

He moved as though he were going to kiss Vin, and Vin twisted his head away, the bit still cutting at his lips. That didn't deter the other man though; Chris caught his chin, forcing his head to stillness.

"Don't want to hurt you," he breathed. His tongue lapped lightly at the spot where the metal touched Vin's skin. "I'll make it good for you." He closed his eyes, and Vin saw a hint of red on his lips -- Vin's blood.

It should have made him queasy, should have made him even more disgusted than he already was. Should have made him angry.

It should not have made his body flush with a new heat, should not have made the fear and anger ebb.

Should not have made him stare up at Chris with a want so sharp that it took his breath.

Chris saw it, but he didn't smile, didn't show victory at Vin's submission. He leaned down again, licked again; this time, Vin's tongue slipped out as well, touching Chris'.

Chris groaned at the touch, the vibration humming through them both, and Vin found his free hand tangling in Chris' hair, keeping him close. The touches to his lips, to the place where the skin was broken, the iron cold, those touches hurt but they also sent a delicious tingle through him, the pain just at the border of pleasure. He could taste the bitterness of blood and metal and salt, but it combined with the flavors of Chris -- cheroot, whiskey, and musk.

Chris drew back, not far, his eyes still dominating Vin's vision. Vin wanted to say something, wanted to demand attention for his cock which was aching in an all-too familiar way.

Wanted to beg.

"Need you," Chris murmured, unbuttoning his pants. "Christ." His eyes closed, and even though Vin couldn't see, he knew that Chris was touching himself, pulling his erection from his pants. Stroking himself.

Vin felt the first drop from his own erection plop on his belly, then ooze outward, spreading.

Chris moved, stretching toward the table on his side of the bed, toward the tin of grease they kept there for their nights together.

The idea came to him out of nowhere, both exciting and frightening. He knew what he wanted -- where wanted.

As Chris took the grease in hand and started back, Vin clicked his teeth on the bit, drawing his attention. Chris met his gaze, stared, his eyes widening as the idea of what Vin wanted came clear.

Vin extended his hand, touching Chris' knee. Offering.

Chris took a deep breath, hesitant. But his eyes kept falling back to Vin's lips, to the bit and the frame that held it to his face. "You sure?"

Vin would have smiled if he could. Instead, he chewed on the bar in his mouth once more, then let the tip of his tongue run as far as it could around his lips.

It occurred to him then that what he had in mind was going to be harder than usual -- his tongue was trapped and while he could move it vertically, he couldn't move it horizontally.

But that seemed a small price to pay for the taste of Chris, the weight of him.

"Don't want to hurt ya," Chris said, but he was already on his knees, crawling over the bed, the tin of grease forgotten where it lay on the far side of the mattress.

Vin watched as Chris' erection bounced against his stomach, purple and proud, stark against the black of the pants he still wore. Like Vin's, it leaked its excitement, thick, clear strands that spun like a spider's web against his flesh.

Chris slowed as he drew close, leaning down to kiss at Vin's forehead, then rubbing his nose against Vin's. He licked yet again at the small tears, and once more Vin licked as well, feeling a jolt of desire when they touched.

"Ya sure?" Chris asked yet again, letting his teeth graze over Vin's chin.

Unthinking, Vin twisted the arm that was tied, the rope wearing at his skin. He nodded, moving his other hand down, towards his own groin; he was aching, his balls so tight he thought they might burst.

Chris smiled at him, and slowly and with great care, he let his lips touch Vin's. "You need me to stop, you let me know," he said.

But they both knew it was going to be damned near next to impossible once it started.

Chris eased into a straddle, hampered for purchase where Vin's arm was tied above his head. He ended up squeezing Vin's arm against his head, so that he couldn't hear from that side of his head, but Vin didn't care -- his attention was centered on the length of flesh stretching before him. Unconsciously, he rolled the bit in his mouth, resenting the way it pinned his tongue -- he wanted to run it along the pulsing vein in the center, wanted to gather all the slickness slipping from the thick head and taste it, swallow it as he swallowed as much of the shaft as he could.

His teeth clattered on the brace and Chris groaned. One of his hands caught the back of Vin's head, pulling it up, while the other took the base of his cock, squeezing for a few seconds before guiding the organ to rub along Vin's lips.

"God," he gasped, and Vin couldn't stop the impulse to use the tip of his tongue to taunt what he could.

Chris jerked at the contact, his fingers gripping harder at his base. He tilted his hips forward, pressing the dripping head against Vin's lips, demanding entry.

Vin didn't even think; he opened as far as he could, letting the bulbous shape slide past his teeth until it rolled over the bit.

Chris froze at the impact, his body rigid with the effort not to thrust. The fingers at the back of Vin's head curled into his hair, gripping so hard that they pulled against the leather and clasps, putting pressure on the roots as well as the junction of his lips.

Vin moaned at the pain, twisting his body to try to lessen it. The tears split wider, new cuts burning as blood leaked down his jaws and into his mouth. It mingled with the essence of Chris, the flavor of the bit, and the odd need that flashed straight to his groin; he was barely aware of his hand finding his erection, pulling hard as his own need threatened to consume him.

His body bent, working for release, and pushing Chris forward -- farther into him. His mouth was as open as the implement would allow, putting more iron against the drawn flesh of Chris' prick.

The fingers in Vin's hair fisted hard, pulling Vin back then forward, the rhythm uneven. Chris pushed deep at first, stopping only when he hit the back of Vin's throat, but he quickly reverted to smaller and faster stabs. The new pace put more strain on Vin's face, bruising as well as cutting; he whimpered, tangled, but his hand never left his own erection as he spiraled closer to his own release.

In his discomfort, he felt his teeth drag along the top of the tender flesh; it wasn't intentional, but it pushed the erection down, the dripping slit catching on the bit --

Chris came, hot and hard, ejaculate strangling Vin as it banged against his cheeks, draining thickly down his throat. It overflowed, leaking from his lips, the salt braising the wounds.

Even as he coughed, trying to breathe, the sight of Chris' face, flushed and strained and lost in release, drew him into a climax that left him stunned.

He came back to the discomfort of rough cloth wiping over his belly, Chris kneeling beside him. He had cleaned himself as well, and tucked himself back in, even though he hadn't yet buttoned up.

Lethargically, Vin tried to touch Chris, but the other man caught his hand. "Be still," he commanded, his voice quiet but his tone flat. "Just . . .be good."

Vin blinked, trying to catch the other man's gaze, but Chris was angled over him, untying his binding. The rope had broken the skin -- Vin hadn't even been aware of it, much less that he had been pulling, and he saw the concern on Chris' face as he eyed the injury.

"Don't worry," Vin said -- or tried to; it was then that he remembered his confinement. With a snort of irritation, he pulled his hand free, planning to push himself up so that he could remove the bridle.

Once more, Chris caught him, taking both hands and holding them with a strength that was, at first, intimidating. He moved quickly, one knee on each side of Vin's hips, holding him to the bed even as he continued to pin Vin's wrists.

It was then that he met Vin's eyes, his own no longer the deep color of his want but now a dull green, shadowed in grey.

"Be good," he repeated, his voice still soft but not quite as hard this time. "Wanna look at you like this, so I can remember it." He pulled Vin's arms up so that he could kiss each hand, but his eyes never left Vin's face.

Vin felt the frown try to form, only to be stopped, like so much else, but the bridle. With a frustrated shake of his head, he gestured with his chin.

Chris just stared, rubbing Vin's knuckles with his chin distractedly.

Vin tossed his head again, grunting with his annoyance. His anger was building now, threaded with fear at this side of Chris he had never seen before.

Chris kissed his hands again, then lowered them to Vin's belly while stretching out over Vin. He framed Vin's head with his forearms, resting his weight on them as he stared down into Vin's eyes.

"I know you don't understand this," he said so softly that Vin felt the words more than he heard them, "but it means more to me than I can ever say that you did this for me." He closed the distance between them, kissing Vin carefully on the lips.

But this time, he didn't touch any part of the device.

Sitting back up, he slipped his hands under Vin's shoulders and drew him up as well. Again, though, as Vin moved his hands, Chris shook his head. "Be still," he ordered again. But this time as Vin frowned, he added, "Let me."

His hands trembled just a little as they closed behind Vin's head, catching the clasps and opening them. He hesitated for a second, his eyes on Vin's mouth, before drawing the leather slowly forward, pulling it from Vin's face.

The skin tingled where the restrictive pieces came away, and Vin could feel the indentations left behind. He wasn't surprised that Chris studied those as well, even as his fingers unthinkingly stroked the leather.

Not surprisingly, the bit had embedded itself where it had torn, and Vin flinched as Chris tugged it out. His jaw ached in its freedom, and he realized that it had been holding his jaw open. He moved it from side to side, stretching to ease the cramp, then started when he felt Chris' hands cupping his face.

"I was telling the truth," Chris whispered, his lips light on Vin's. "You're beautiful."

Now, the words, the intent, made him blush, and he tried to pull away.

But Chris held tight, his nose brushing gently over Vin's forehead even as his thumbs stroked over the swelling bruises at his jaw.

Vin pushed against his chest, wanting space, but as the other man backed away, he caught Chris' eye. "Next time," he said, clearing his throat, "next time, get longer damned leads." He lifted his right hand, rubbing at the back of his head, trying to soothe the roots of his hair.

"Next time?" Chris asked, using his fingers to cant Vin's head up.

Vin snorted, his tongue worrying at one side of his mouth. "'Spect you'll be after me from now on." But he grinned slightly, ignoring the spike of pain, letting his hand settle on one of Chris' thighs. "You got any other ideas you wanna warn me about?"

Chris stretched to kiss him on the lips, still careful. "I'll . . .think on it."


End file.
